


Stuck Over the Fourth Wall

by Alleycatisdone



Category: Homestuck, Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon)
Genre: And Your Heart, Because It Will Be Broken, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Fix-It of Sorts, Get Hype, Mostly Fandom Fusions, Other, Post-Canon Fix-It, Prepare Your Soul
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-02
Updated: 2015-06-11
Packaged: 2018-04-02 14:20:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4063159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alleycatisdone/pseuds/Alleycatisdone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two brothers-of-sort wander about The Unknown. Just not the brothers you expect.</p><p>Or in which I make the crossover fusion that nobody thought of but everyone wanted starring <strike>Dove</strike> Emo Birb Boy as <strike>Wirt</strike> Big Brother Jerk With A Heart of Gold And Parent Problems and <strike>Dave</strike> Knight of Freudian Slips as <strike>Greg</strike> Beautiful Cinnamon Bun Roll Too Good For This World, Too Pure. Get hype.</p><p> </p><p>  <strike>I have other work to be doing wHAT AM I DOING THIS FOR.</strike></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Loveliest Lies of All

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Led through the mist by the milklight of moon_   
>  _All that was lost is revealed_   
>  _Our long bygone burdens, mere echoes of the spring_   
>  _But where have we come? And where shall we end?_   
>  _If dreams can't come true, then why not pretend?_

==> Stuck Over the Fourth Wall

==>

A young boy sits with his loving daughter at the edge of the forest. His glasses light up as he scans over past pesterlogs, some his own and some not but still his. A bird lifts off and flies through the trees but he takes no notice, mouth repeating words in a silent conversation, laughing and maybe even crying, though no one could tell, until that, too, became silence, lips frozen over a single sentence.

EB: i want to talk to the real dave.

==>

A black cat purrs, sitting contently with his two charges. The pumpkin one chatters on excitedly to the rain one, even if she still hasn’t played the rain. It’s warm between the two and it must be the best spot, even if he’s no longer small enough the fit in his charges’ lap. The sun shines as it dips below the earth, a perpetual autumn evening stolen through time to forever play out. Yes, it is a good day.

==>

Laughter fills the air of the big top, roaring at times as the clowns take stage and dimming to a soft _ooh_ of appreciation for the lion tamer. Trapeze artists frame the scene as other acts provide the background, importance much higher than that of the main act for where would they be without them, the background. And in the center of this hodgepodge of wonders, a wolf who curses The Felt.

==>

The soft glow of candle light falls over the delicate marionettes and their strings. His craft is a gentle one, one that requires light touches and confident pushes. A different but rewarding work compared to his last one. No Strength is required here. A breeze blows through as the door opens, plunging the room into darkness. A frown tugs at his lips. Yes, while he may be the Puppetmaker, he is no Puppetmaster.

==>

Dark green eyes stare down at him, what was once light with childhood replaced with the dreariness of adulthood. Yet her smile, ever bright, still retains joy… even if there is something sad about it. A longing of nostalgia or perhaps a searching of memory for something that was there but is not or something that was never there in the first place but felt like it should. It was a laughable thought that he would feel some sort of kinship with the painting above him, but an old comedian such as him knew how to take a joke.

==>

Tidying up for guests long before they arrive, it could be said that he was a good host. An excellent host, in fact. But oh, how was he to know that? While he could not smile, possessing neither a face nor the facial muscles, an innate smugness rose up inside him, a glint reflecting off of the item in hand. Maybe a little birdy would tell him.

==>

Folding it carefully, she set the finished paper hat on top of her first mate Mr. Frogger, an orange frog that had been poorly named by her friend. Luckily, she had been the one to name the rest, even if her friend insisted that Aristotle, Pluto, and Mitochondria weren’t frog names. What did he know, they were toad-ally awesome! Blinking down in surprise at her hands, she wondered what to do with the extra hat that she was sure that wasn’t there before, but what could you do. Bending down level to the river, she let it go, the currents taking it where they pleased. Pleased herself, she turned back to command her crew back to shore when a steam whistle cut through the air.

==>

Picking up wayward skulls was not how she wanted to be spending this evening she reflected as she grabbed what must have been the twelfth one. Though her brother, not by blood she was told but maybe somewhere along the line they were, was fascinated with the things, even he admitted that they had scared, and saddened, him more than once. Speaking of, he swept the floor of chips of bone and dust, cleaning the place to perfection though the why never escaped her. In the distance, a ringing was heard.

==>

The flame propelled the balloon up up up, higher than tree tops and into the sky. The other birds had scoffed at him, a bird who flew through fire and balloon, not feather and wind. And yet there he flew, higher and higher until the earth disappeared beneath cloud and the air became scare, where bird would never fly through feather and wind alone. A net below him caught the cotton candy clouds, a feat most would deem impossible but nothing is as it seems in The Unknown. A bird in a balloon floating in impossibility in the only place that would take its impossible dream.

==>

Hesitance but for a moment stopped him, apple juice bottle seeming to stare at him in accusation. Shaking his head, he grabbed the bottle and hurried to the door, ignoring the odd feeling of guilt that followed him. It’s not like he would miss it anyway.

==>

Slicing through the last of the woodpile, the son stepped back to wipe his brow of sweat. Behind him, he heard his mother pull up the bucket, _how scandalous!_ they had both laughed when they first saw it, from the well, no doubt full of the water they would need. His gaze did not turn to her, though, as something had flickered through the forest. Blink and it would be gone but he could of swore he saw a crying boy in its inky depths, a figure that would have been drowned in shadow if not for lantern. But as it were, he blinked and the forest continued on.

==>

_Somewhere lost within the clouded annals of timelines lies a place that few have seen. A mysterious place called The Unknown._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Oh, how the gentle wind beckons through the leaves_  
>  _As autumn colors fall_  
>  _Dancing in a swirl of golden memories_  
>  _The loveliest lies of all_  
>  _The loveliest lies of all_  
>  —[Into the Unknown](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FKkb0aU4ld4)


	2. The Old Grist Alchemiter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Dave we're fucking lost."  
> "Dave we shouldn't have gone into the creepy fucking woods."  
> "Dave fucking listen to me."  
> "Dave don't fucking touch that."  
> "Dave."  
> "Fuck."
> 
> Or Dove and Dave don't get along well and don't exactly fit the roles of Wirt and Greg but that's what makes them special.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (This is only the first part of this chapter. I wanted to go ahead and post it since the next part is mostly action-oriented and I've never written an action scene, or at least a big action scene, before. Expect the next part soon, I promise.)
> 
>  
> 
> _Hush now dear children_  
>  _It must be this way_  
>  _Too weary of life_  
>  _And deceptions_  
>  _Rest now my children_  
>  _For soon we'll away_  
>  _Into the calm and the quiet_

==>

Shining down softly as it rose into the sky, the full moon took its place among the stars. The wind whistled merrily through the trees, winding a melody through their boughs as branches cracked beneath foot of many a creature. Crickets’ chirps could be heard clearly in the midnight air, a small voice weaving between the songs as if to add one of its own. Two brothers-of-sorts wound a trail through the discarded autumn leaves, one a tall orange figure that was likened to the burning wick of a candle and the other a small pale figure who resembled the wax of which the candle was made. Crossing across a bridge made by a fallen tree, the young voice could be heard distinctly against the background noise.

“…Edgar, Allen, Poe, and finally Twilight are all really pretentious names to call this crow but I think that just Crow would be the most uncreative name of all. It’s like the color green of names. It’d be hella ironic to name ‘em Dove though, don’t you—”

“Dave, shut up,” the tall one suddenly said, slapping a hand in front of the younger one’s mouth. Dave moved the hand away angrily and glared up at his older brother. A crow perched on his helmet, an old kitchen strainer, and seemed to glance up curiously to the older one.

“Where…” the older brother began, clearing the sudden dryness of his throat. The trees were like nothing he had ever seen, a blackish tint to the robust red of the bark that didn’t look natural at _all_. He was willing to bet that if sliced one open blood would spew out, they were just that creepy. “Where are we? Dave, there’s no woods around our house. Hell, we live in the middle of goddamn Houston in an apartment the size of John’s dick. How the fuck did we get here?”

Rolling his eyes, Dave huffed, “How the heck should I know Dove? _You’re_ the one who was leading.”

“Dave this is serious,” Dove gritted out, frowning down at the seven-year-old while scanning the sky through the dwindling tree limbs for some semblance of normalcy. The North Star was the brightest one, right? But all Dove could make out was the beginning of a vaguely genital-shaped constellation which he was mildly certain didn’t actually exist. So much for direction.

“And I’m serious too,” the younger boy said, pointing to the crow on his head which had settled back down to nest on the top of his head. “This crow has gotta get a better name than Crow _._ We don’t want to be _those guys_ who name their crow Crow. That’s stupid.”

“Ugh, can you focus on the real problem for once,” Dove growled, tearing his gaze from the sky to witheringly stare down at his younger brother. It was at times like this where he was reminded why he never wanted one in the first place. Dave had taken his name, identity, and life and still couldn’t seem to take anything Dove said to heart, deflecting to the side with rambling metaphors that were often more lost than the answer to the question. Dove didn’t take it personally, seeing as how Dave did that with everything, but that was the heart of the problem.

“We need to get home.” Home, where he could barricade himself in his room and shut the whole world out. Where it didn’t matter if he decided to spend the day watching pointless youtube videos about birds or curled up underneath the covers hoping to never wake up. He could blare his music as loud as he wanted to and avoid social interaction and didn’t have to listen to annoying little brothers and nobody cared.

Dave simply shrugged. “We’ll find our way back sooner or later.” A noise caught his attention and he turned to curiously investigate it and the source, leaving his brother to look nervously up at the unassuming grey squirrels perched among the branches above their heads. Not that they were normal squirrels by any means, just that they looked as though they wouldn’t be attacking anytime soon. Normal squirrels didn’t have glowing red eyes and bowties, now did they.

“Dave, we’re fucking lost,” Dove snapped at the smaller one, though the effect went unnoticed as Dave had already run ahead by then. A light shone ahead through the branches and beckoned him forth, a big red flag that something was about to go horribly wrong remarkably fast. Grumbling under his breath and running a hand through his hair, he raced to catch up with his brother who stood peering around the side of a tree.

“Dave, don’t run off when I’m—” he began, only to be rudely shushed as Dave continued to peer out from their hiding place. “Don’t you fucking shoosh m—”

“Shoosh!” Dave repeated, one finger placed to his lips as he used his other hand to point to the clearing. Even his crow understood the idea, letting out a soft _caw_ before falling silent. Blinking in surprise, Dove’s eyes squinted against the light to see what was in the clearing that he apparently had to see.

An older lady could be seen, an elegant figure in swaddling green robes with sweeping black hair and curving horns. Wait, horns? Cool, troll then, Dove filed the information away for later use. It’s always a good thing to know the species of the person you’re talking to, or going to talk to in this case. Her face was lined with concern and heavy bags were gathered under her eyes as she set the lantern she had been holding down in front of a tree that seemed to be the leftovers of some beaver construction gone wrong. But she had an air about her that seemed to scream, “I’ve seen worse.” She shifted her stance, crouching as if she were about to attack when—

“HOLY SHIT,” Dove screeched, yanking back as the rev of a chainsaw filled the air. Barely sparing a glance back, he dashed in the opposite direction of what was sure to be the next Texas Chainsaw Massacre. “Dave you would be the worst hitchhiker in the world, jesus. You’d probably be the one person who _would_ get into the truck that says, “BEATNGU,” holy fuck why. Why did this have to happen Dave. Tell me one good legitimate reason why. …Dave? Dave!”

Backpedalling after realizing he was down one annoying little brother, Dove could only stare despairingly at the way he had just come. Crazy lady with a chainsaw or the knowledge that this was not how Dove Strider dies? But Bro would miss Dave a lot, so with a sigh, he crept back the path he came from warily. He could hear voices the closer he got to the clearing with the troll woman so he could only pray that Dave had somehow managed to talk the woman to death with his irritating motor mouth.

There was no such luck as he glanced at what would have been a tender scene if it wasn’t ruined by the _totally still running chainsaw_ the troll had, god. Dave had taken Chainsaw’s hand in his, using his other to make various gestures in the air, and was in the middle of what was no doubt a rather roundabout metaphor for saying hello, Chainsaw staring motheringly down at him. Dave’s crow had moved to his shoulder during sometime in the conversation and seemed to be adding to it with quiet chirps here and there. Did he mention the still running chainsaw? God, why did Dove have to have the defective brother? He was pretty sure he had never done anything worthy enough to deserve this type of punishment. Looking at the scene in front of him, he wished he did, if only to have a reason to blame his horrendous luck on.

When Dave waved after finally noticing him, the two star crossed lovers, Dove’s hand and his face, finally met after having to wait an entire… how long had they been here? Well, it didn’t really matter anyway since they met at least once a week due to Dave’s interference but it was the thought that counts… now the troll lady was waving her chainsaw at him, great. This was how he wanted to spend his day, watching a brother who he didn’t even want and being murdered in some backwoods that he didn’t even know how he got into.

“Ah, Dove, is it? Your… brother, I think the appropriate human term is, yes, brother, was just telling me about you,” Chainsaw smiled softly at him, tripping over familial words a bit. Dove and Dave scowled at the wording, not exactly fond of the emotional attachment it brought.

“No, not exactly brothers,” both chorused, flinching in surprise as they did so, gazing at each other with surprise. Quickly breaking eye contact, Dove coughed uncomfortably to try to relieve the painful tension in the air, Dave shifting awkwardly in his peripheral. Dave’s crow was the one to finally shatter the silence with croaking caw as it settled on top of Dave’s strainer to sleep again.

“It’s more like ectotimeclonetwin shenanigans,” Dove explained, though it sounded more convoluted now. Chainsaw merely raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow, mouth set in baffled amusement.

“Excuse me if I’m wrong,” she started politely, never a good sign with these dangerous lady-types. “And I know that somewhere along the line I am, but I was under the assumption that human twins were of the same age and of the same... physical traits. You and Dave seem… a bit far apart in years and Dave here lacks your certain... appendages.”

Wings coming up in defense and feathers ruffling, Dove couldn’t help but snap, “It’s called fucking fraternal twins.” Chainsaw started in surprise and Dove mentally winced. Good job dipshit, anger the troll with the deadly weapon that is still running.

Brow furrowing, her mouth set in a tight line now, Chainsaw spoke delicately yet bluntly. “Excuse me for the misunderstanding, I am not the greatest expert on human ancestorial relationships. The subject is a bit, ah, confusing, to say the least.”

Smoothing out his feathers, Dove shook his head in reply. “Naw, I was being an asshole whose panties got in a twist. Spoiler alert: that’s all the time. It’s nothing to apologize for.”

“Yeah, Dove’s really dumb,” Dave chimed in. He studiously ignored the glare his brother sent his way in favor of smiling charmingly up at Chainsaw. “But I wouldn’t worry about it too much Ms. Woodsman.”

“It’s Woodswoman,” Dove argued for the sake of it. His brow began to crinkle in thought. “Or is it Woodslady? Lady of the Woods? This is some Victorian shit right here.”

“Woodslady should suffice,” the Woodslady cut in, stopping Dove from rambling on about the multitude of names that were better than Ms. Woodsman. Shrugging, the taller boy stepped forward to remove his brother’s hand from the Woodslady’s, eyeing the chainsaw that he had shockingly forgotten about. These woods must be doing things to him.

“That’s swell and all but me and Dave should be getting home. You don’t know where we could find the nearest Exxon, do you? You know, the convenience store?” They could at least get directions there or find a rare payphone, depending on whether Dove had any lose change.

The Woodslady simply stared at him in confusion. Whoopee, they were talking to the any person in existence that didn’t know what a gas station was and probably lived in the middle of bugfuck nowhere to boot. Just. Great. Clearly his throat to ask again like somehow that would bring about an answer, the Woodslady beat him to the punchline.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think there are any of these ‘x-on’s’ here. Here in The Unknown, people tend to keep to themselves. It was dangerous enough traveling when the old Beast was still roaming around.”

“Pause, rewind, stop.” Dove slashed his head in the air, pinching his forehead in hopes of stilling his ever growing migraine. It was like a bad trope: kids go into the creepy woods, kids get lost in the creepy woods, kids find chainsaw wielding adult who speaks in weird phrases in the creepy woods, kids die bloody and gruesome death in the creepy woods. Moral of the story? Don’t go into the creepy fucking woods kids. “The Unknown? Beast? Lady, I think you’ve got it all fucking wrong here. We’re just trying to get home. Now if you could just point out the way to Houston, I would really fucking appreciate it. Shit, it doesn’t even have to be the right way, just spin around in a circle and pick the direction that looks like the one filled with the most death and let us go.”

“Oh no,” the Woodslady gasped, one hand daintily coming up to cover her mouth. Because the other one was still, you know, holding the _fucking chainsaw_. He should really address that issue but alas, oh no’s are never any good.

“Oh no? What do you mean oh no? Like ‘damn, these boys really are lost and now I must be the responsible adult and take them home’ oh no or ‘I just remembered I left the oven on’ oh no? A little perspective here would be great.” Dave tilted his head back far enough to give him his flattest look ever but not enough to dislodge the crow on his head, mouthing, ‘Calm down bro.’ He wasn’t hysterical goddammit, there was an actual legitimate reason to be worried with a possible _serial killer_ in front of them with a still-running chainsaw, jesus. Though by how hard Dave was squeezing his fingers he might not be the only one who was semi-concerned with the situation.

The Woodslady gave them a pitying look. “I don’t think you boys realize how lost you are.”

Dove groaned, burying his face in his free hand. “Guess what Toto? I don’t think we’re in fucking Kansas anymore.”

==>

Watching the Woodslady work was an experience in and of itself. Chips of bark and splinters flew as she mercilessly cut down tree after tree of what they came to learn were called Edelwood. Sitting on the remains of the fallen, Dove examined the stump in morbid curiosity to see if they really did bleed when cut open. No such luck.

Going to touch the stump, he recoiled in revulsion as his hand came back sticky, black goop running a trail down his fingertips. Making a face of disgust, he wiped it off on his cloak quickly, fearing no stain as the cloak was already black to begin with. Idle thumping reached his ears and he turned to see Dave quietly rapping to himself on a nearby stump, keeping time with the rhythm he tapped along its surface, petting the crow now situated in his lap. Biting out a sharp, “Hey genius,” before flicking him on the forehead, it was safe to say Dove was pissed.

“What was that for?” Dave groused, rubbing the offended spot in an attempt to soothe the pain. “I wasn’t even talking to you this time, jeez.”

“Next time you open your big mouth, make sure shit isn’t spilling out instead,” Dove hissed at him, gesturing to the troll in front of them while trying to relax his shoulders so that his feathers would stop fluffing up at the same time. “In case you haven’t noticed, you’re the whole reason we’re in this mess at all dipshit.”

“I don’t see what’s wrong,” the younger one grouched back, stubbornly folding his arms across his chest. His crow gave an agreeing squawk, feathers bristling in an attempt to look larger. “We’re getting free food, shelter, _and_ directions. It’s a win-win deal bro.”

Dove laughed bitterly, clapping the younger boy strongly on the back, Dave trying not to show his discomfort. “Except the part where she could be _a murderer trying to lead us farther into the woods to kill us_.”

Dave pursed his lips. “Well, when you put it like that…”

Throwing his hands up in frustration with added wing twitches, the older brother screeched, “Do you _ever_ take things seriously?” Unfortunately, that garnered them the attention from the one being that Dove had been trying to avoid.

“Is everything fine?” the Woodslady called back, stashing her newest victim in her sylladex for safekeeping. Glancing over her shoulder curiously to look at the two boys, she watched in concern as the older one looped one arm around the younger one’s neck and began to grind his other arm against Dave’s head. Dave’s helmet had fallen somewhere during the tussle and his crow fled to the safety of the Edelwood branches for the time being. Wondering for a moment if an auspistice was needed, she turned back to her work as Dove waved her on. Familial relations.

“See what you did,” Dove muttered, loosening his grip just enough so that Dave could squirm his way out. Once free, Dave did the very mature younger-brother thing of blowing a raspberry at Dove. Dove did the very mature older-brother thing of blowing one back.

“That’s because you were being dumb again,” Dave pointed out, scurrying out of arms’ reach as the older boy threatening leaned forward. He picked up his discarded helmet and placed it on its rightful place, crow swooping down to resume its perching. “If you hadn’t of yelled or tried to clobber me, then we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“And if _you_ hadn’t have gone and talked to the troll lady with the goddamn _chainsaw_ , then we would’ve been home by now!”

“As if! You don’t even know where we are.”

“That’s not the point. The point is that you don’t go up to strangers with chainsaws and candy and ask to go home with them. Where is your fucking survival sense.”

“Yeah well, it’s not like _you_ were gonna get us home. You don’t even leave your room on a regular basis, much less go outside for, I don’t know, fresh air.”

“Well if _you_ know so much about the outside then why don’t _you_ get us home. Lead us, oh wise one.”

Dave faltered for a brief moment before puffing up with an ugly scowl. “I would if _you_ hadn’t gotten us lost in the first place! What was I supposed to do, leave a candy trail? Is this freaking Hansel and Gretel?”

“That’s the only thing you’d be good for, wouldn’t it?” Dove asked sardonically, hands gesticulating wildly in the air as his feathers puffed up to maximum fluff. Dave face flushed in anger and embarrassment, and he had to start several times before finally being able to speak without his voice squeaking in rage.

“You want some candy? Here, have some candy!” And with that, the young boy dug his hands in his pockets and threw several colorful objects skyward, Dum-Dums, Tootsie rolls, and Laffy Taffy coming to rain down on the poor unsuspecting ground below. A wayward Tootsie roll hit an innocent turtle that had wandered to close to the argument, now caught in the crossfire. Dove gaped at the wreckage and slowly turned to face his brother.

“Why.” was all he asked. Dave sniffed and spun around on his stump, pretending to much more interested in the Woodslady which they had all but forgotten during the whole endeavor. The crow let out a harsh cackle and Dove was almost completely certain that it was laughing at him. Clearing her throat awkwardly, the Woodslady tried to put on a convincing smile as she stared down at the two brothers, leaving the older one to wonder just how long she had been standing there and how much of the quarrel she had heard.

“I am done with my work for tonight so I will be retiring to my hive. If you would follow me…”

“Yeah, okay,” Dove sighed, looking at his younger brother who simply huffed and stared at the Woodslady with a more forced concentration, crow following suit. Content to ignore his insufferable younger brother and crow as well, he raked his hand through his hair once more, flattening his feathers along his neck before giving one last sigh. “Lead the way.”

==>

Later Dave would deny it, but Dove was convinced that he purposely dropped the mango Dum-Dum straight in Dove’s path that he ended up tripping on. Shooting his brother an evil eye, he gingerly picked himself up and brushed the dirt off his knees. Dave whistled innocently up ahead, not even bothering to turn around and see what had happened to his older brother. His crow was trying to whistle back and the boy smiled every time it did.

Mumbling curses to himself, Dove hastily ran to catch up, sticking a foot out to return the favor. Dave stumbled, toe catching on the tip of Dove’s outstretched foot, before righting himself. A scowl made its way to his face, hugging the bird tighter to his chest as he ignored his idiotic older brother. A fierce war ensued, leaving only bruised knees as the victors.

“We are here,” the Woodslady announced suddenly, stopping in front of wooden house that looked like something you would find in a nice suburban area, not the middle of some weird forest. There was something familiar about it but Dove couldn’t quite place his finger on it. It must have been because it was the same cookie cutter house that all good American families wanted. A brook ran beside it and he wondered when the trees had begun to thin out, not having noticed it before. It looked like something an old couple would have built in the summer of ’05 or something an extremely wealthy couple would waste money on just to brag that they had an outdoor vacation home.

What caught his attention the most was the alchemiter on the second store balcony.

“What—” he breathed, blowing out harshly through his nose as a sharp pain rang through his head. That wasn’t supposed to be here, couldn’t be here. They had left most of the Game-stuff in the, well, Game. Only Jade had kept the alechemiters, transportilizers, and other devices so that she could tinker away to her heart’s content. There was something here that he was missing, some clue that would reveal it all, but the more he thought about, the more the pain grew, and there was something… _something_ he was supposed to remember and _Dove stop being such a worrywart, of course it’s saf—_

A brush of a hand on his shoulder jolted Dove out of his trance. Concern lit the Woodslady’s eyes as she kneeled down in front of him, flinching when he realized that he had sunk to his knees. He scrambled up immediately, tugging along Dave who had also fallen to his knees. He had an iron grip on Dove’s hand, cutting circulation off with how tight he squeezed.

“F-fine, just fine, a-okay, fucking peachy,” Dove stammered, already making his way to the house and dragging Dave along in his wake. It didn’t matter if the crazy lady had an alchemiter because it didn’t involve them. The Game can go stick a cactus up its ass for all Dove cared. They just had to find a phone and call Bro, who would say that he wasn’t worried when in actuality he was _this_ _close_ to hacking into some government satellite to find them. The Woodslady gave him a glance like she didn’t believe him, but if she any misgivings, she didn’t say.

The inside of the house looked deceptively modern compared to the Woodslady. A fireplace took up the left side wall with a shelf full of… clowns? It wasn’t like Dove could judge anyone’s sense of decorum, after all, he once decorated his room with jars of dead things. But the clowns didn’t just stop at the shelf, no, they were thrown haphazardly around the room on every available surface and even scaled the walls as paintings. Something was seriously wrong here.

In front of Dove was a couch which he gratefully sat down on, Dave claiming the other cushion. Stairs led up to what he could assume were the bedrooms as he could see the kitchen was to his right. Another doorway opened up behind him into some mysterious room, maybe someone’s workplace or study, although something told him that he wasn’t allowed to go inside. The Woodslady excused herself as they took it all in, heading to one of the upstairs bedrooms. Waving distractedly, Dove’s eyes focused on the fireplace’s mantle. There was nothing incredibly special about it, no medals or plaque adorned it, but there was something off about it, an uneasy feeling of déjà vu that didn’t settle right in his stomach. It was all wiped away in a manner of seconds as soon as Dave rose from the couch and made his way to the kitchen.

“Dave,” Dove hissed, snapping his fingers at the ten year old and pointing to the couch. “Sit down. I know it’s a hard concept for you to understand, but it’s common fucking decency to not snoop through someone else’s home like a perv.”

Dave puffed his cheeks in petulance. “Am not. I’m just… looking.”

“That’s what snooping is,” the older brother retorted dryly, ignored in favor of examining the mantle. Tapping the empty surface, the younger one frowned up at the mantle, feeling as though something important was missing. An eerie painting of a clown stared down at him, disturbing him enough that a shudder went down his spine. For a split second he could swear he saw a picture of an old lady, a worn but kind smile on her face, before he blinked and was back to staring at the reject of the ICP.

Dove fully stretched out on the couch since it appeared that Dave wasn’t going to sit down anytime soon, wings spread weirdly but not in any pain for the moment. He stared up at the ceiling, watching as the fan above him jerkily turned in circles. He thought about it briefly, entertaining the notion that maybe it was broken or a wire had been mistakenly connected, his brain still going back to the idea that it was a ceiling fan. What was so important about a ceiling fan? It just spun in a circle, somehow cooling people down through some air current science—Electricity!

Dove shot up so fast that he nearly tumbled off the couch, startling Dave who was still staring at the fireplace. Throwing his brother a confused look, Dave trotted over to see what was agitating Dove now. The older boy was muttering something to himself, “—That was the whole fucking reason we came here, I can’t believe I’m so—Dave?”

“Nothing, go on,” a mischievous grin on his face, Dave waved his brother on. It was always funny when Dove went off on a tangent, usually resulting in some comment that came back to bite his ass in the end. Reaching up to pet Ninja, a name he just came up with and was trying out for now, he gasped when all he felt was the cold metal of his helmet. Dove, who had been watching all this with narrowed eyes, opened his mouth to tell his brother to stop bothering him when the little pest practically leaped off the couch and ran off into the kitchen.

“Dave!” Dove shrieked, already planning out a whole list of why you shouldn’t run around a possible murderer’s house in the middle of the woods, this isn’t a horror movie Dave but the first rule is to abso-fucking-lutely never split up, when a sudden _snap_ echoed throughout the house. He froze, straining his ears to see where the sound was coming from, giving up after he crickets resumed their chirping.

“Dave,” he called urgently, his voice no more than a whisper as the carefully made his way to the kitchen. His brother let out a sudden “Whoop!” of excitement and Dove cursed him under his breath. A tad louder, he called again, “Dave,” finally looking into the kitchen.

Dave was sitting on the stove counter, hugging his crow that was cawing insistently, to his chest. There was a dark stain on the floor and Dove imagined it was sticky and thick to the touch too. Bread crumbs were scattered everywhere, the crow had to have gotten into it, but nothing looked too out of place. Breathing a sigh of relief was all too short lived as a growl resounded through the room. Everyone froze and Dove could clearly make out where the sound came from this time. Slowly, he turned his head to the utility room door and looked out the square window. Air caught in his throat when he saw the illuminating eyes staring back at him.

“Dave,” he said quietly, moving gradually towards the boy and crow that had gone silent. A faint wheezing noise could be heard and Dove swallowed as he tried to keep his eyes on the thing outside the house while simultaneously calming his brother down. Taking his hand in a death grip, Dove gently eased Dave off the counter and they began inching their way back. The only warning they had was an ear-splitting screech from Dave’s crow before the thing rammed into the door and knocked it off its hinges.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Come little children_  
>  _I'll take thee away_  
>  _Into a land of Enchantment_  
>  _Come little children_  
>  _The times come to play_  
>  _Here in my garden of_  
>  _ **Shadows**_  
>  —[Come Little Children](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hJLGNLOP1jo)


End file.
